


An Eager Man

by Mackem



Category: Critical Role (Web Series) RPF
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Roleplay, Rough Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 13:36:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17899091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mackem/pseuds/Mackem
Summary: He stops in his tracks, momentarily taken aback, before he smiles softly. Of course Liam is here.He’s standing in the middle of the room, his legs spread and planted as if rooted there, with the door closed behind him and his eyes turned to the floor. After a second he drags them up to meet Matt’s gaze, and Matt is unsurprised to see the tears shining in them.





	An Eager Man

**Author's Note:**

> Matthew and Liam have an in-character/not-in-character talk. Emotions happen. Kissing happens in place of exploring emotions as they deserve to be explored.
> 
> SPOILERS. Goodness me, spoilers for the end of campaign one and also for up until the break of The Search For Grog, which is exactly as far as I've reached. Yeehaw. This ficlet got hold of me and refused to let go until I got it written. Marisha is only mentioned, but I am absolutely envisioning an open, loving relationship between the two of them, with... extras, here and there.
> 
> Written for my friend Ruth, who I won't do the indignity of tagging here. Title from Raven's Song by Aaron Embry, because how could I not?

Twenty minutes. That’s all they have before they’re due back on stage. It’s hardly any time at all; it’s also, when caught in the middle of a story that’s picked at his brain for a year now, much too long.

 

The group pile backstage hurriedly, all gabbling at the top of their lungs about how freaking _awesome_ this all is. The collective tone is both amazed and gleeful; they’re all just big theatre kids at heart, and selling out an audience of thousands is something that seemed astonishing enough on paper. Seeing it in person has left them all gibbering and walking on air, and reaching out from person to person to offer little touches which seem to say _this is real, right? This isn’t a dream?_

 

Still, giddy as they are, they’re also all well-trained in the art of catching quick breaks. Nothing more than a minute is spared on exclamations of disbelief and joy before they all rush off to their dressing rooms.

 

Matt slams his door open and dives straight for the tiny connected bathroom. He wouldn’t say that he usually feels the need to pee when under pressure, and streams have long since stopped leaving him crossing his legs in desperation, but something about an entire auditorium of people whooping in delight at his mere presence had set a leg jiggling nervously under the table. All the anxiety seemed to have rushed to his bladder.

 

There’s no small amount of relief as the pressure eases, and he washes his hands and returns to his dressing room proper with a more jubilant, less jittery bounce in his step.

 

Liam’s there.

 

He stops in his tracks, momentarily taken aback, before he smiles softly. Of _course_ Liam is here.

 

He’s standing in the middle of the room, his legs spread and planted as if rooted there, with the door closed behind him and his eyes turned to the floor. After a second he drags them up to meet Matt’s gaze, and Matt is unsurprised to see the tears shining in them.

 

Unsurprised, but hardly unmoved.

 

His heart twists as Liam gazes beseechingly at him, a tear slipping down his cheek as his hands clench into fists by his sides. _I wish he hadn’t worn black_ , Matt thinks fleetingly as he takes him in, cutting a dramatic, mournful figure in the plush reds and golds of the theatre’s dressing room. _Anything but black._

 

He raises his arms and opens them encouragingly. After all this time, he knows when he’s needed. “It’s all –"

 

The sentiments are muffled as Liam flies into his space, moving with a force that suggests the much-needed release of an energy which has been winding up over the past hour, now snapping like frayed elastic. His lips meet Matt’s with urgency and desperation mingling, forcing Matt’s mouth open as strong hands rise to hold him in place by the hair. The grasp is tight, just teetering on the precipice of pain, and Matt gasps as the shock of it sparks through him. When he analyses the feeling, hours later, with Marisha holding him safe in her arms and his scalp still tingling, he’ll wonder if Liam was trying to stop him from pulling away, or trying to hurt him in return.

 

Matt knows all too well that he hurt him tonight. He doesn’t even think of asking Liam to stop. Nor does he regret any of it.

 

Liam mumbles something against his mouth, impossible to catch through the fevered movement of his lips, but Matt does not have to ask for clarification; it becomes a refrain, the words tumbling repeatedly from shaking lips as he pulls away a fraction. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m… I’m sorry, I thought…”

 

“It’s all right,” Matt tries again, his own words soft as he hopes to soothe Liam. His voice is broken, breaths coming in sharp, rapid lungfuls, and for the first time in a long while, Matt struggles to read him. Liam is in there, his usual softness clear in the tone, but he’s halfway between his normal accent, and that of Vax.

 

Matt frowns. He slides his hands beneath Liam’s shirt to stroke over his back, long, smooth movements consciously designed to calm panic. “Who do you want?” he whispers, his voice barely there as he tries to reach out to him. “Who do you need me to be right now?”

 

Liam’s eyes screw up further for a moment, before opening. A few more tears slide their way down his cheeks as shame settles on his features. “I don’t know,” he admits weakly, and his voice catches. “Gilmore, or, or you? No, it’s you,” he adds quickly, before Matt can react. His hands slide out of his hair to cup Matt’s cheeks, and he tilts Matt’s chin to meet him in a softer kiss; Matt is fluent enough in Liam to recognise an apology when it’s offered. “You,” he repeats, and the waver in his voice has vanished. Certainty shines through. “Always you. But… but Gilmore… he’s _part_ of you. That’s right, isn’t it?”

 

“That’s right,” Matt replies, and he bites down on the anxious urge to flow seamlessly into Shaun's smooth, confident tones. His own voice seems lacking to his ears, but Liam sags against him, and something in Matt’s stomach unclenches. “It’s all right,” he repeats, pulling him closer with his hands crossed over Liam’s back, a shield beneath his shirt.

 

Liam moves willingly to hold him tightly, but he shakes his head. His forehead rests against Matt’s as he blinks at him. “It’s _not_ all right,” he murmurs. “God, I thought he knew, Matt. I thought Gilmore _knew_. Seeing that…”

 

“I know. I’m sorry,” Matt whispers in return. His fingers clench into Liam’s skin as he breathes out shakily. “I… Gilmore means so much to me, and what he had with you -  with Vax, I couldn’t… just let him be an afterthought. A, a joke for the crowd. I had to… have that moment, for him. I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t be,” Liam says fiercely, and suddenly all of his passion, all of his intensity is turned onto Matt. He forces another kiss, teeth clattering together before Matt moves with him, a groan startled from him with the rush. _I missed this_ , he thinks as he revels in Liam’s hunger. He’s left panting as Liam releases him, the blood risen to his cheeks. “Don’t you dare apologise, Matthew. It was perfect – of course it was perfect, Gilmore always was, _you_ are, and I’m glad you did it. I’m fuckin’ glad I know you.”

 

They stand together for another moment, breathing softly together, before Liam presses a kiss to his forehead. “This was probably not ideal right before we’re meant to be entertaining the masses,” he admits sheepishly. His fervour has gone; not drained away – never drained, not from Liam, who runs on clashes of emotion – but packed away methodically for later. His hands flit around Matt’s face, carefully straightening his hair.

 

“After?” Matt suggests softly, but Liam shakes his head and steps away.

 

“M’s gonna want you afterwards, you know that. I won’t make you take that away from her. But thank you for offering,” he murmurs. He tucks his hands into his pockets and grins, suddenly bright. “Anyway, tonight I have Stubby, and the Big Man, and all of my family. But tomorrow…”

 

“Tomorrow you can have anyone you need,” Matt promises, a warmth settling in his chest. Liam bounces on the balls of his feet, nods, and heads for the door.

 

“Tomorrow I can have an entire universe,” he agrees. “And we’ll work it all out from there.” He walks through the door, but hesitates before he’s through.

 

Matt knows him very, very well. “Goodbye, Vax’ildan,” he says, summoning Gilmore’s voice as easily as if he never left, and Liam nods.

 

“Goodbye, Shaun,” Vax says softly.

 

And he walks away.


End file.
